


Don't need candles and cake, just need your body

by antisocialhood



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grinding, M/M, Sexual Tension, Smut, Top!Michael, Unrequited Love, bottom!Luke, happy birthday Luke, mentions of previous sexual encounters, of course, u fucking lanky noodle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antisocialhood/pseuds/antisocialhood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Luke's birthday and Michael just wants to make him smile, just wants to see Luke squirming under him with needy gasps and tiny sounds, just wants to stop playing around his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't need candles and cake, just need your body

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> New fic because I've received so many requests for Muke Birthday Smut, so here we go.
> 
> This is a bit different than my other stories (they always are)
> 
> Title from Birthday Sex by Jeremiah because i'm lame and the line is kinda cute.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys

By the time Michael reaches the store he’s debating on buying himself a pair of sunglasses and sunscreen. It’s winter for Christ’s sake, but the sun is beating down over Australia like it would in the middle of summer and Michael’s suddenly wondering if Luke really needs a birthday present; he’s only nineteen, there’s nothing spectacular there and he could easily make up for his lack of a gift with a quick hand job under the table and maybe some hair pulling when they all curl up to watch movies and fall asleep on the couch.

 

Yeah, that sounds like a decent plan except for the fact that Michael’s already out in the scorching sun and he knows Luke will start to cry if he comes in his pants again like he had two weeks ago in front of his friends, and Michael really doesn’t want to try and weasel the younger boy out of the kitchen with Ashton and Calum’s eyes fixated on their retreat.

 

The store is cool, probably a bit too much for the season they're currently in but it feels nice against his warm skin. It smells like cologne, one of those strong ones that you’d picture high end business men wearing that leaves your brain a little fuzzy but your nose pleased. The array of sunglasses surrounding Michael leaves a small smile on his face that he was able to break into Lukes computer and raid his search history for the expensive as fuck sunglasses he’d had his eyes on for months -the amount of porn that Michael’s eyes skimmed put the older man to shame and he would be sure to comment on the fact later when they had a moment alone.

 

~~~

 

Michael debates calling up Calum, bragging about how he’d just scored Luke the best gift ever and rubbing it in how he was totally going to be higher on Luke’s favourite list. He knows the younger man will probably hang up if not bitch at him for the next twenty minutes and probably punch him as soon as look at him; it still feels like a good idea, though.

 

The bag is heavy in his hand, shades held tightly in the black leather box written on in neat cursive. He’s anxious, knows Luke’ll be over the moon about the present, probably all over him too until Ashton snaps at him -its sort of funny how he can picture the events happening, yet not so funny when his stomach twists up.

 

There’re no feelings involved really, it’s platonic handjobs, even the occasional blow job in the back corner of the stage before shows when Luke’s got these mega pre-show jitters and can’t seem to stay still, and those once every three week thigh fucking sessions they’ve got going on that result in lots of cuddling under way too many blankets and not even pillows.

 

No feelings at all.

 

Really.

 

Except that maybe Michael’s heart spins in fucking circles when Luke’s bobbing around the stage and smiling like a goof, or how Luke likes to wrap his arms around Michael’s waist and tuck his face into the older man’s neck to look over his shoulder and be a total fucking nuisance, and when he steals Calum’s shirts with all of those stupid holes ripped in because Ashton had convinced him that it was totally as punk rock as dying his hair all those fluorescent colours Michael did -which definitely hadn’t spawned the pastel era that had Luke almost heart-eyed, no, not at all.

 

“Is that for me?” Luke’s on him as soon as he steps into the kitchen, butter knife in hand. His eyes are locked on the black bag in Michael's hand. “Please tell me that’s for me

 

“No.” Michael pushes past the blonde, grabbing a water from the fridge. He brushes past Calum, who’s on the couch, spread out and partially asleep.

 

The younger man’s eyes fly open, locking on Michael. He looks tired, probably from the late night out with Ashton and Damon; makes him wonder how people keep going after long nights filled with alcohol and less then twenty minutes of sleep. “Your mom called a bit ago, said it wasn’t urgent but to call her back.”

 

Michael nods. He can see the way Calum’s eyes are slipping shut and how he’s fighting to keep them open.

 

“Wait,” Calum croaks, putting his arms up like a baby wanting to be picked up. “Come cuddle me.”

 

“Fuck no.” Michael laughs, shaking his head. “You’re hungover and probably still smell like liquor. Ask Luke.”

 

As if on cue, the blonde comes prancing out of the kitchen, sandwich in hand. He flops down on the couch beside Calum, shifting to get more comfortable as the older man nearly climbs on top of him. The affection that radiates off of Luke is almost sickening; his chin in on Calum’s flat brown hair, arms tucked around his legs that are curled up on Luke’s lap in the older man's desperate attempt to become a human ball; and he can hear it, the soft little murmurs stemming from Luke’s mouth that have Calum humming appreciatively.

 

“You’re disgusting.” Michael hates how snappy he sounds, the desperate twinge at the end of his words that have Luke looking at him with those stupid big blue eyes.

 

Calum’s snorts, cringing at the sudden movement and sound. “You’re just jealous.”

 

And Michael’s sliver of self control withers away. “Yeah, I’ll remember to be jealous when he’s riding my dick tonight.” He know’s it was uncalled for judging by the stony silence that follows his attempt at claiming Luke as his own, the desperate try falling and slamming into the ground with a loud thud.

 

It’s Luke’s voice, the soft one he uses when Ashton starts yelling and they’re suddenly having a band meeting and Luke wasn’t able to hide in his room, delicate and testy, that breaks the stupor they’ve been pressed into. “That was uncalled for.”

 

Michael opens his mouth, response coiling in slight relief as Luke cuts him off.

 

“As true as it is, you didn’t have to point it out.”

 

Calum whines, burying his face in Luke’s chest. “Please, stop. I’m hungover, not drunk. I can’t handle your sexcapades or future endeavours.”

 

Luke pets Calum’s hair almost soothingly, muttering out an apology, eyes locked on Michaels. It’s around that moment that Michael realises exactly what Luke said and mumbles out an almost indistinguishable ‘What?’

 

The blondes eyes are twinkling, rushing out promises of later that Michael feels twisting around low in his stomach. They’ve never had sex before; it was too intimate and Michael couldn’t bring himself to push Luke into a sudden predicament where unrequited feelings floated around unceremoniously and Michael stood on the edge of heartache and regret.

 

“That is my present, right?” He’s smiling softly, cheeks dimpled and blushing.

 

Calum groans out a plea, standing up. He shoots a glare at Michael and pushes at Luke’s cheek -of course he couldn’t do anything else, it was the baby's birthday and that meant all forms of torture, whether physical or mental, were off the table. “I’m going to cuddle with someone who won’t work to try and make me vomit.” His movements up the stairs are lumpy, blankets dragging behind him.

 

“So, what’s in the bag?” Luke questions, facing back at the TV. The news is on, humming softly and leaving Michael to wonder what the point of having it on was if it wasn’t audible.

 

Michael shrugs. He crosses his arms. “You can’t change the topic like that.”

 

“I can’t?” Luke hums, “It looks like I did.”

 

Michael glowers, rustling the bag around some. He watches Luke’s eyes dart to it, lower lip pulled into his mouth. It’s all he can do to not pull out the box and hand it over, watch Luke’s eyes light up and hear whatever squeal would echo from his lips when he realised what he’d be given.

 

“Did you like our previous conversation?” Luke stands up, cracking his back. He still isn’t looking at Michael.

 

“Not too sure,” Michael responds. “But I liked the plans.”

 

“Yeah?” Luke turns finally, eyes latching onto Michaels.

 

Michael nods. He wants to talk about it, open up the conversation; he wants to spill his secrets, wreck it all, tear it down and make a soft bed of disregarded thoughts and overstimulating words. His attempt at subtlety is weak, probably because of his choked out consonants and vowels, and shifty voice. “You should be having sex with that special someone.” It sounds like some sort of attempt at a commercial about abstinence, and he watches Luke’s face light up.

 

“You’re a special someone.” Luke says. He raises an eyebrow, taking a step towards Michael.

 

Michael huff's. “You know what I mean.” He doesn’t like the challenging aura suddenly surrounding Luke.

 

“You know,” He starts knitting his fingers together. “I’ve thought about sex a lot, us more so, and I’ve come to a conclusion.”

 

“Yeah?” Michael chews on the inside of his bottom lip. “What’s that?”

 

Luke smiles, cautious. “Come here and I’ll tell you.”

 

~~~

 

Michael knows Luke’s sulking in his room, probably fresh out of the shower with wet footprints littering the whole fucking hallway leading into his room. It makes him roll his eyes, the thought of Luke in one of those huge towels scampering down the hallway before Ashton catches him sloshing water around again; and then he’s suddenly thinking of Luke in a towel and he’s gritting his teeth, willing the sensation spreading through his groin to fucking stop.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” It’s Ashton’s voice that breaks into Michael's careful thoughts of anything but Luke.

 

“What?” Michael croaks. He ignores Ashton’s suddenly raised eyebrow, choosing to stare at the carpeting.

 

“You good?” Ashton’s voice is soft, careful. “You look like you’re having a stroke or something.”

 

“He’s probably imagining how hard he’s gonna fuck Luke tonight.” Comes Calum’s snarky response. He’s leaning against the back of the couch, looking much more alive than earlier.

 

“Shut up, Calum, this is serious.” Ashton snaps, waving a hand at the younger man.

 

Calum huffs, moving from his perch to stand beside Ashton. “I’m fucking serious, you should’ve heard them earlier!”

 

Michael groans. This is a conversation they shouldn’t be having like ever and he’s trying so hard to drown out his mind's drawn up images of Luke’s lanky body dripping with water, but god, the conversation surrounding him isn’t much better.

 

Calum and Ashton are bickering now, their snappy responses of what exactly happened, and Michael’s sitting here with his head in his hands thinking of their last member in the most compromising positions possible.

 

“Can you not, please.” He’s not above begging, pushing at the other two and escaping into his room.

 

Ashton’s pushing him back onto the couch, muttering out ‘hold on, what’s going on?’

 

“They’re fucking!” Calum’s sputtering angrily, clearly not pleased with Ashton’s lack of an enthused reaction.

 

“For Christs sake, Calum. Why are you so adamant in saying that? Who the fuck cares?” Ashton glowers at the younger man. “Do you actually care if they fuck? Just be fucking happy the sexual tension won’t suffocate you anymore.”

 

And maybe that’s why Michael suddenly feels like burrowing up in his bed with like forty blankets and pillows covering his door so he won’t hear the incessant knocking from Calum and Ashton. There isn’t going to be any fucking, that much he knows, and the amount of sexual tension will probably only rise in Michael’s case because his fucking mind is completely and utterly against him, and he keeps dragging up the raunchiest memories of predicaments they’ve been put in and god, he’s only human.

 

He hears the familiar tune -a song he can never place- echoing from the stairs and he knows Luke’s probably patched up the little pinpricks in his skin and turbulent little heart, and that he’ll probably get nasty glares and maybe even ignored the whole night -and that god willing, all will be forgiven when Luke finally opens his present- and while nothing will go back to the way it was, because things were said that shouldn’t have been, maybe everything will be pacified for the time being and somehow it’ll all dilute with what once was.

 

~~~

 

Luke’s wearing a party hat -oneof those cardboard half circles wrapped up like a cone and printed on with ‘happy birthday’ littering the confetti decorated paint. He doesn’t look pleased to have the elastic string tucked under his chin, or the hat tipped almost over his left ear. He hasn’t looked at Michael yet, kept his eyes down and focused on the table; he maybe made eye contact with Calum once before looking like he was going to start sobbing and dropped his gaze back to the table top.

 

“Cake or presents?” Ashton asks, clearing table off of chinese takeout boxes.

 

Michael hopes he says cake; really hopes Luke doesn’t press when Michael gives his present last and that maybe he’ll get a small smile in return.

 

“Presents.” Luke looks up, eyes meeting Michael’s. They’re hard, a dark blue that Michael’s seen once before.

 

And Ashtons bringing the pile of presents in, stacking them on the table one by one in front of Luke.

 

The blonde goes for the blue bag, rummaging around through loads of tissue paper and pulling out a small box. He raises an eyebrow looking at Calum. “I swear to god, you’re the worst present wrapper I’ve ever seen.”

 

Calum scoffs, “Just open it.”

 

Luke smiles, ripping the paper off and opening the lid. “Bro.” He grins, looking at the box and then back up at Calum. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“Nope.” Calum smirks, throwing the cocky grin Michaels way. “We’re going to the Stone’s concert after tour.”

 

And Luke’s squealing, like hearing the actual words makes it truer than the tickets printed inside. It makes Michael nervous, like maybe his present won’t match up because seriously? Stones tickets? He’s reaching for Michael’s box, fingers sliding on the shiny red paper wrapped all nicely.

 

“Wait,” Ashton’s staring at Michael, probably see’s his clenched jaw and rigid stance. “Open mine next.”

 

It’s a box, pretty big and bulky, and Ashton’s grinning almost excitedly. Has a nice big bow on it and Ashton leans in, elbowing Michael in the side. “They wrapped it at the store.” He winks almost like he’s telling a secret.

 

Luke scowls, looking up. “I heard that.”

 

Ashton raises his hands innocently, smiling the while. Luke tears the ribbon off, tossing it to the floor and then digging into the paper, small pieces with happy birthday strewn across the table top.

It’s car speakers, the kind you’d imagine to shake the windows with the loudness of the bass and Luke’s throwing himself at Ashton, dragging the oldest into a tight hug, repeating thank you continuously. And then there’s a loud, wet sound and Michael feels like he’s frozen. Luke’s pressing kisses all over Ashton’s face, holding tightly around his neck.

 

Michael looks over at Calum. He’s watching Michael, when he sees the older man’s probably distraught face he shakes his head “Okay, you’re happy, we get it, Luke.”

 

And Michael’s never been as grateful as he is in that moment.

 

~~~

 

Luke’s whining about a paper cut under his nail. He’s thrown so many looks at Michael in the past few minutes that the older boy couldn’t decipher if his life depended on it.

 

It’s down to the last three presents, two of which are last minute ones from Ashton, and Michael doesn’t like the cocky look on the oldest man’s face, and even more how he keeps sharing these furtive glances with Calum. He pushes the two wrapped in pink paper towards Luke, nodding.

 

The blonde grabs them, shakes the boxes a bit before frowning. “What-”

 

“From me, Mike and Cal.” Ashton smiles, he glances at Calum.

 

Luke tears the paper off, freezing when he’s gotten to the package. The colour drains from his face, eyes shooting up to lock on Ashton’s. “Ash..”

 

“It was Calum’s idea.” Ashton laughs, watching Luke’s face brighten. “Probably more of a present for him then you.”

 

And Michael’s almost dying at how Luke’s sitting back in the chair, face full of awe. It’s priceless.

 

Calum speaks up finally. “I know you miss Molly and I want a fucking dog.”

 

Luke looks at Michael before picking up the other package. “This from you?”

 

“Other one.” Michael swears his heart is in his throat. Luke’s staring at him, expression neutral but eyes hinting at something else. It makes his stomach twist nervously and he feels himself twisting his hands around almost automatically.

 

“Well, what’s this?” Luke asks, eyes shifting to Ashton and then Calum. He picks up the small box, shaking it like the previous one.

 

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Open it.”

 

Luke huffs, ripping into the paper. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He’s smiling, holding up the IOU card. “You couldn’t just get me a gift card or something?”

 

“You can buy me coffee.” Calum suggests, smiling teasingly.

 

Michael laughs at the face Luke makes. He watches Luke reach for his present, the younger man's eyes on him, watching cautiously.

 

The paper is hanging off the table and Luke’s staring at the box. “Michael-”

 

“I know you wanted them, so I had to get them.” His words are rushed, pushing past Luke’s attempt at talking.

 

Luke looks up, looking almost pained. “How much did you spend?” He’s talking quietly, eyes flinching as he looks at Ashton.

 

The oldest man is gesturing for Calum to follow him, probably thinks Michael and Luke need a minute. Michael wants to ask them to stay, he doesn’t want to be left alone with Luke when the younger man looks this messed up.

 

“Michael.” Luke squints at him. “How much?”

 

Michael shrugs, “It’s no big deal, it’s a birthday present.” He stands up, reaching for the crumples of paper.

 

Luke’s hand catches on his wrist, tight and warm. “Mike.”

 

“Happy Birthday, man.” Michael smiles weakly, pulling out from Luke’s grasp.

 

“I love you.” And it hurts because yeah, Luke does love him and he loves Luke, but god, it doesn’t correlate and Michael wants to scream.

 

“Yeah, me too.” He says instead, throwing the paper in the trash and willing his heart to follow.

 

~~~

 

Calum wanted to go out, celebrate Luke’s birthday with a real party in some club where they’d all end up stumbling home drunk out of their minds and clinging to each other.

 

Luke had shut that idea down before the whole sentence had been out of Calum's mouth, and maybe that was why they were all squished onto the couch, legs overlapping and partially sitting on each other.

 

The third movie for that night is playing. Ashton’s doing a thumb war with Michael and Luke’s squished in between them, head on Michael’s shoulder. Calum stands up, pushing Michael’s leg off of his lap. He grunts as he stretches.

 

“So do you guys have a plan or anything? Calum asks. “Or are you just gonna wait for me and Ash to leave?”

 

Luke blushes, looking down. “Whenever you leave.”

 

And Michael’s confused because he was pretty sure Luke was fully done with all of the bullshit going on and Michael himself -albeit his cuddles. He opens his mouth to speak, gaping like a fish for a few moments before stuttering out “What?”

 

He’s climbing on top of Michael before Ashton’s even stood up, hands wrapping around the older man’s neck loosely.

 

“Hey,” Luke breaths. His eyes are dark blue again, shining brightly.

 

Hi,” Michael says quietly. He hears Calum make a gagging sound and Ashton cursing out a threat. Makes him smile.

 

It’s the harsh pull on the curls at the nape of his neck that has Michael’s breath catching in his throat. Luke’s nimble fingers brush his skin softly, dancing around the collar of his shirt. Michael wraps his arms around Luke’s waist, tucking his hands under Luke’s shirt and trailing up his sides.

 

“You know what I really wanted for my birthday?” Luke asks. He’s biting his lower lip, kind of looks like one of those twinks in the porn Michael had seen on Luke’s history, makes Michael want to kiss him, hard.

 

And Michael’s breathing out ‘what’ like it’s his last bit of air.

 

Luke smiles coyly, tongue darting out to play with the metal ring stuck through his lower lip. “Wanted you to fuck me.”

 

Michael shudders, swallowing thickly. “Luke-”

 

“Been wanting you for a long time.” He shifts his hips, grinding down on Michael subtly, snapping forward harshly at the end. “Got off thinking about it, all the time back home.”

It’s quiet but for the scratchy sound of their jeans rubbing and the hitches in Luke’s breath.

 

“About earlier-” Michael starts, probably sounds weary and distressed.

 

Luke shakes his head and Michael pauses. “You’re so stupid. Think I don’t see it all?” Luke scoffs. “You’re so fucking stupid.” And then he’s kissing Michael, harsher than ever before, licking into his mouth with this desperate pace that has Michael almost stunned. Luke’s pushing his body weight onto Michael, holding him down tightly against the couch, fingers strong in his hair.

Luke scoffs. “You’re so fucking stupid.” And then he’s kissing Michael, harsher than ever before, licking into his mouth with this desperate pace that has Michael almost stunned. Luke’s pushing his body weight onto Michael, holding him down tightly against the couch, fingers strong in his hair.

 

“Think I don’t notice how you like touching me?” Luke nips at Michael’s jaw, and Michael wants to scream from the afterbite Luke’s teeth left on his lips. “I’ve seen it all, Michael. I know how much you want me.”

 

“It’s not just that.” Michael knows he’s standing on the edge of a cliff that screams dangerous drop, but god, he can’t help himself. “I don’t just want you.”

 

Luke’s mouthing at his neck, scraping his teeth softly and dragging his lip ring after. It tickles, leaves Michael a bit breathless and squirmy under Luke’s shifting hips. “Yeah? What else?” It’s not his usual curious tone, it’s the heavy one, thick with sarcasm and undisclosed want.

 

It’s in that moment that Michael's brain stops fooling around, his fingers dig into Luke’s sides, tightly, squeezing hard until Luke lets out a squeak and pulls back.

 

“You already know.” His tone is harsh, accusatory.

 

Luke grins, nodding. “You fool, of course I’ve known.” He leans in, lips catching Michael’s softly, gentler than before. “Known for a while, I think.”

 

Michael wants to question him, wants the heartbreak and a quick hand job or the confession and languid sex -or would it be love making? Either way, Michael’s hoping for the latter, and hopefully a night full of cuddles and overheating under too many blankets like they always do.

 

“You know I love you too, right?” Luke mumbles the words against his lips like a tiny prayer that was meant for his ears only.

 

Michael smiles, breaking the kiss. “Was kinda hoping so.”

 

“You gonna show me how much?” Luke asks. He untangles his hands from around Michael's neck and pulls at the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his lean torso and dropping it onto the couch.

 

Michael nods quickly, hands skimming the tight band of denim around Luke’s hips. He snaps the button and slowly drags the zip down. Luke twists around, grinding down on Michael and it’s all the older man can do to not groan as Luke ruts over Michael’s semi hidden under the thick material of his jeans.

 

“Off.” Luke tugs at Michael’s shirt, struggles to pull the material over his head. “Do- do you think Cal and Ash’ll be mad if we fuck here?”

 

Michael rolls over, pressing Luke into the couch and wrapping the younger man's legs around his waist. “Don’t care.” He rolls his hips into Luke’s ass, melting at the weak sound falling from his lips.

 

“Take my-” The words aren’t even out of his mouth as he unlatches his legs from Michael’s body and Michael’s tugging his jeans and boxers down his long, creamy legs. His cock springs up, flushed a dark pink and weeping; makes Michaels mouth water and he silently vows to have it in his mouth before the night is through.

 

Luke’s nimble fingers are trying to worm their way into Michael's waistband, tugging the jeans down without bothering to open the clasp or zip. He can feel the scratches, as minor as they are, littering his hip bones -probably will end up red and tender before the night is out.

 

“Fuck, Luke.” Michael sputters. “There’s a button for a reason.”

 

And Luke's smiling cockily. “But you look so nice marked up.”

 

“You’re a dick,” Michael pushes Luke onto his back, clambering down his body until his face is level with the birthday boy’s flushed cock.

 

Luke swallows, the sound audible from Michael’s position. “You love my dick.”

 

He doesn’t deny it, only grins at Luke before taking the younger boy’s hard length in hand and stroking him a few times. It’s better than the rushed out quickies under the table or before they go on stage and Michael finds himself needing Luke’s pleased little noises.

 

“N-no.” Luke stutters, brows furrowed and a hand pushed through his hair. He drags his legs up, spreading them slightly. “I don’t want the usual.”

 

Michael nods stiffly, head dropped low and swiping across the tip of his cock. He looks up, catching eyes with Luke. “Hmm?”

 

Luke squirms. “For fucks sake.”

 

Michael sits up, watching Luke’s hooded eyes follow his movement; the unpaced fingers squirming around in attempts of pulling the button open and the zip down, snapping his boxers to his hips sharply and gaining a soft groan from Luke.

 

“Fuck.” Luke curses. He’s reaching for his jeans now, fingers grasping the material, digging through a front pocket and throwing the packet at Michael.

 

Michael laughs, holding it up. “Where the fuck did you get lube in a wet wipe sized pack?”

 

“I know people.”

 

Michael rolls his eyes, scoffing. He rips the pack, dribbling lube down his hand and onto Luke’s thigh.

 

“Don’t waste it.” Luke chides, teasing smile lighting up his face. “I’ve only got like three more.”

It’s all Michael can do to not laugh. He rubs the lube around his fingers for a few moments before running his hand up along Luke's thigh, careful to keep the slick digits from his skin. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Luke nods slowly. He spreads his legs further, watching as Michael bends over him to press a kiss to his lips, fingers pressing ever so softly to his hole. "Wait, stay here."

Michael nods, pressing a lube slicked finger into Luke, suddenly surrounded by thick heart that curls around his digit and squeezes tightly in the heat. "God," Michael chokes, breathing almost into Luke's neck. 

"Feels weird." Comes Luke's response, higher than usual. 

The only sound made for a few moments is the soft sound of Michaels finger pressing into him at a slow and steady pace.

"You can add another." He's withering under Michael, back arching off the cushions sporadically, pressing his chest to Michaels.

The second finger in is worse; he's so warm and tight, feels fucking good on Michael fingers and makes him wonder how good the blonde man was gonna feel around his cock, clenching heavily with every thrust. Makes his stomachs churn and cock twitch, and takes a shitload of self control that Michael didn't even know he had to not drop his pants and rut into the barely opened man.

"H-harder." And Michaels all but jamming his fingers into Luke's quivering body. The blondes glistening, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and tummy sprinkled with precum in the most random of spots. "M-more."

Michael slicks up his third finger, sliding it home slowly. He's knuckle deep in the boy, decidedly figures he could easily be in love with how Luke feels around him if the whole love shit concept didn't pan out. 

Luke's rocking back onto Michaels fingers, eyes hooded and blown a dark blue, almost a black that had Michael curling his toes hungrily.

"You feel so good on my fingers." He pauses, liking the way Luke looks up at him with these curious little eyes. "Can't wait to feel you on my cock." 

Michael licks at Luke's neck, scrapes his teeth across the pale expanse of his collarbone, debating on leaving harsh bruises and figuring it'd be too much to hide them during the concerts, especially with the way Luke sweated.

"Pl-please." Luke's keening, body halfway off the bed. It's harsh to look at him, see the delicate beauty of his body and know that he was moments away from wrecking it all.

And Michael can't do anything but listen as he slicks himself up, pressed his tip to Luke's hole, waits.

"Hold- my hands when you fuck me." He whispers the request, palms outstretched and grabby, fingers clenching on open air.

Michael obliges, knitting their fingers together as he pushes in, slow and steady, don't let him revel in the sudden aches or twinges. And Luke's gasping under him, clenching his fingers repeatedly as so with his hole.

"Shit," Luke curses again that night, legs wrapping around Michaels waist languidly, weak and almost clinging. 

There's no movement after Michaels pressed in fully, hips flush to Luke's ass. It takes a moment, the harsh intake of breath from beneath him and the gentle, "please" that falls from his lips, tiny and begging.

Michael grunts, hips rearing back to snap forward, driving Luke back into the arm rest of the couch. The blonde groans loudly, fingers squeezing Michael's tightly.

"Oh god." He's loud, enough that Michaels slightly worried Ashton and Calum are going to hear and make snarky remarks tomorrow morning, probably tweet about it nonchalantly and blow the whole thing out of proportion. "You feel so fucking big."

Michael hums, pleased. He's never been vocal during sex, liked to listen to the sounds he drew from his partner, the soft whimpers and high pitched moans, the cries that fell from Luke's lips when Michael had his mouth wrapped around the base of Luke's cock and his mum downstairs. He drives into Luke harder, hips sputtering with the untamed force his body is chasing. 

Luke's ones hand lets go, slinging back to hold the arm rest tightly, almost for support. Gives Michael a reason to touch him now, drag his fingers along Luke's narrow torso, tweak at his completely over sensitive nipples, and plant on Luke's hip for an extra grip.

He's weak today, knows it from the build up he's been getting since the early morning, but can't help himself when his hips begin to stutter, his pace cheating, dragging randomly. 

Luke groans, probably just as close as Michael is. Makes him happy he could draw a rise out of the blonde as quickly as he could himself.

"G-gonna come?" Michael asks. He's teetering on the edge, feeling like an explosion just waiting to happen.

Luke clenches his jaw and then his hole, and Michaels done for, completely and utterly done. His hips press harshly into Luke's ass as he comes, straining to be as close to Luke as possible. He feels like he's floating on that beautiful fucking cloud in the sky, can't even imagine his life before this moment until Luke's gasping out his name, small whimpers following the choked words.

"S-suck my dick," Luke's desperate, eyes flaming wildly, "Let me come in your mouth."

And dear god, there's nothing Michaels wanted as much as that. 

He pulls out slowly, the soft squelching sound that follows probably the most unpleasant thing that's happened that night. He's on his knees in an instant, burying his face between Luke's thighs, tonging at his balls softly, feeling them tighten against his strained muscle, and then his lips around around his length, sucking him down hungrily, desperately, and Luke's hands are in his hair, pulling, twirling around, playing.

Luke groans, a high pitched sound, worse than ever before as he comes, hips jerking up against Michaels face as he shoots his load into the older mans mouth, a quiet apology on his face after his body's calmed a bit.

And then Michael opens his mouth and Luke moans, eyes locking on the white mess splashed about.

"You gonna swallow for me?" His voice is gruff, heavy with left over excitement.

Michael does, licking at his lips before climbing back on top of Luke. "Happy Birthday, you old sap."

"I'm still younger than you." Luke wipes at the corner of Michaels mouth, dipping his finger into his own mouth and cringing.

"Don't like how you taste?" It's cheeky, but Michael doesn't care, too much has gone on tonight, far too much, and he's not ready for it to end, for the serious questions to pop up.

"No," Luke rolls them over, nearly knocking Michael onto the floor. 

"The couch isn't that big, Luke." Michael knows his eyes are wide, in panic mode from almost being rolled off the couch.

The blonde ignores him, fingertips on his stomach and sliding down. "I do know, that I like the taste of you." He looks up, eyes locking on the clock above the TV. "And my birthday isn't over just yet."

**Author's Note:**

> Well there we go!
> 
> Kind of lame, eh? Haha
> 
> Comment what you thought!
> 
> Kudos if you enjoyed!!
> 
> I'm planning another fic ( It's gonna be zooweemama material for sure) and I think you'll all like it!
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone have a wonderful weekend,
> 
> Much love,
> 
> x


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